The trip started out on a bit of a panicked note – mum and I were slightly late driving to the airport, since flying to Africa via Chicago entailed pre-clearing US customs in Edmonton.

In the past there has been trouble with that. Once in Toronto my grandmother had given me a grapefruit to munch on the airplane (though how a gal can munch on that particular piece of fruit without cutlery is beyond me.) Apparently citrus is not welcome through customs. Never mind that we were still in the Toronto airport. Never mind that this brand of grapefruit had originated in Florida, and that I assured the office that by the time the airplane reached American skies the grapefruit would be in my stomach and not infecting precious American soil. I was hauled to a private room and given The Lecture (defrauding customs, bla bla.. it was not even an apt lecture, as I was openly displaying the grapefruit)

There had even been problems in the Edmonton Airport. Two years ago I had been returning to school in New York, and the school had neglected to list me as a returning student. I was told to sit in a chair and not allowed to leave (or to speak to my mum, who was waiting back on the Canadian side of the door) for hours. I could not even go to the bathroom unattended. Of course, it was a Sunday and no-one answered from my school. Finally I was rebooked on the next day’s flight and permitted to go through the door which led back to Canada.

America can be very annoying sometimes.

Still, I did not figure there would be any trouble, as I was only passing through Chicago for a couple of hours. But guess what….

…I could not even GET to Chicago. My flight was cancelled. There had been fog the night before, and although the conditions had cleared, they had cancelled the flight. They were willing to re-book me on a later flight, but then I would miss the connecting one to Amsterdam, and then the connecting flight to Jo’Burg.

A very stressful hour followed. As my second flight was on NWA/KLM and the first one was on United/Air Canada and since they had not been ticketed together (blame the travel agent, not me) the Air Canada people said that it was frankly not their problem that I had to get to Amsterdam.

The NWA people said that they could not do anything, as the first ticket would not show up on their system. Mum and I ran forth and back and back and forth, from one counter to another. The news was good: “We can print you an invol ticket and reroute you on NWA” and then bad again: “Your ticket was NOT an online ticket.” Really, the whole thing is best described by my mum:

It was a nightmare when we got to the airport. We left the house at4:30. At the airport, Melanie still had some things to put into her 2suitcases. And a tripod in a case and a big blue bunny and her red backpack - full- and a rolling carryon case and a MEC shoulder bag (half backpack) tocount as a purse. At least she knew where her passport was.I dropped her off and parked the car.

When I got into the terminal, shetold me that her flight to Chicago was cancelled because of fog and thatUnited Airlines was trying to find her another flight. Actually, the airplane hadn't been able to LEAVE Chicago because of fog, so the plane hadn't arrived in Edmonton yet. The next flight would have arrived backin Chicago after Melanie's KLM flight would have left for Amsterdam.The agent asked Melanie for her itinerary. Melanie had printed it outbut had figured that she didn't need it and had left it at home. Theycouldn't find her on the computer. Plus, there was no record of her connecting flight to Amsterdam.

We called home. Andrew read Melanie her itineraryand Melanie scribbled it down. That didn't help the agent. She stillcouldn't find her. Then she said that Melanie's must have been issued twotickets - one to get her to Chicago and the other to get her from Chicago toAmsterdam and Jo-burg. They couldn't find the reocrd of her tickets. Meanwhile,my cellphone gave a funny beep - I checked the screen and it said I had atext message. I checked the text message and Andrew had sent us Melanie'sflight information!!!Sweet kid!! That was so helpful! We showed it to the agent. Shechecked and discovered that Melanie was listed on the flight but that there werestill problems. We called the agent in South Africa. The agent who didthe booking wasn't in. Another one checked Melanie's file and confirmed tothe agent that it was two flight bookings, not one continuous flight. That meant that Melanie would have to get her bags in Chicago and get herselfand her bags to the KLM counter. If it had been one ticket then the bagswould have gone through to Jo-burg.We kept trying to figure other ways for the airline to get Melanie to aKLM flight that would get her to Amsterdam in time for her to make the connecting flight to S.A. Then United told us that because it wasbooked as two tickets, all they had to do was get her on a flight to Chicago andtheir job was done. The rest of her itinerary was KLM's problem.

We went down and talked to the Northwestern Airlines desks to see whenand where their flights landed. They are an affiliate of KLM airlines. Theclock was ticking. People were tryig to be helpful but nothing wasreally happening. Then the Northwestern agent had a brilliant idea. She toldus to go back to the United counter and have them issue Melanie a "invol" ticket.... an involuntary cancellation ticket....In other words,Melanie's ticket was cancelled involuntarily by the airlines and so she could takethe voucher to another airline if they agreed to honour it. Northwesternhad a flight for Chicago that left at 8 am - Melanie would be able to make herKLM flight. And....the agent would put it through as a single ticket soMelanie would have to get her bags - they would go through all the way toJo-burg!So back Melanie went to the United counter and the agents agreed toissue her an invol ticket. But they didn't know how to do it. They called someone else over. She would do it, but she had to log in and thenfinish helping another customer (everyone had problems because of the cancelledChicago flight).

This took forever..they assured me that they could doit - they had to look after someone rrying to get on a 7:30 flight.Melanie's new flight was at 8. We went back to Northwestern and told them thatUnited was going to do this for Melanie - when they could get to it.A few minutes later I went back to United and two agents were sittingthere with a printed out manual about how to solve some problem - how to issuean invol ticket.. They were following step by step but for some reason it wasn't working. They kept asking us for Melanie's itinerary. I wouldshow them the text message on the cell phone. They would take it, typesomething in their computer .... finally, they realized the problem...the travelagent booked Melanie not with an e-ticket, but was supposed to send her apaper ticket. Then there was a panic. The clock was ticking. They couldn't issue an invol ticket without Melanie's paper ticket. She didn't have apaper ticket. So then they couldn't seem to get a paper ticket toprint. They checked the text message again and realized that Melanie had beengiven an Air Canada flight number for the United flight to Chicago. (Unitedand Air Canada are affiliates).

Picture yet another agent running throught airport to go to the otherend of the new terminal where the Air Canada counters were. They couldn't findMelanie in the Air Canada computers. I found the agent and told herthat Melanie had 6 minutes before Northwestern was going to close theircounter and she would miss getting on the flight. The agent was trying her bestto communicate with someone on the phone while someone else fiddled on the computer. She promised she would RUN the ticket down to the other endwhen she got it.Meanwhile, Melanie squished the extras into her bags, got her bagsweighed and once again, I had to shw the Northwester agent the text message thatAndrew sent. The paper ticket and invol ticket finally arrived (as wellas a paper ticket for the return Chicago-Edmonton flight) and theNorthwestern agent completed Melanie's new booking. She printed out an intineraryfor us and for Melanie and Melanie and I hugged good-bye - briefly!

There was an RCMP agent waiting to close the flight. I told Melanie Iwould wait 10 minutes in case there were any problems. I figured theywouldn't let her own with all her carryons. I waited 15 minutes. Then I figuredit was safe to go home. It had taken over 2 1/2 hours of standing andpacing and running (literally) from counter to counter.


I RAN through customs. I RAN through security (as I was the last one through I had 10 people to screen my bags – so much attention!). I RAN though the door into the boarding lounge….

….and then waited for almost an hour. Delayed! Why had they neglected to mention this at the desk? Still, it was such a relief to be going to…

…Minneapolis?! Wait a minute…

I ran up to the counter and was assured that I would be going to Chicago VIA Minneapolis and not to worry (I am sure I looked properly harried at that point)

2 hours to Minneapolis. Just enough time to grab some ice cream and a pizza (it smelled so New York-ish, I couldn’t resist!) and then on to the plane to Chicago. 1 hour to Chicago. Now, IN Chicago, I had been told, I would not have to leave security. I would just have to follow the transfer signs to my new gate. Not so! I followed the transfer signs out past security to the monorail. On the monorail from terminal 2 to terminal 5, and right up to the check-in desk, where they weighed my carry-on bags and said that something would have to be left behind.

Not a chance. I told them that they had approved my carry-on 2 airports and 4 hours ago, but she said that they had different rules here. After some (polite!) objections she agreed to let me check a bag for free. That was fine, less to carry. So I packed one bag with soft clothes and dollies (going to Africa for poor kids) and sent it off. I thought things would be easier with one less bag.

At the security checkpoint I put through my bags and removed my video camera. And my shoes. The security guard looked at the shoes (they were really fuzzy pink slippers) and told me I could put them back on, so I went through the metal detector, and though I didn’t beep I was still ushered to the GLASS CUBICLE for the pat-down.

As they paged the special woman patter-downer, I enquired as to the reason I was (as usual) selected. The response was that I had chosen to wear my boots. I objected that I had in fact removed them and that they could certainly put them through the metal detector.

“Of course we will be putting them through for further scanning” was the response. “And once you are in the cubicle you have to receive the pat-down. And keep an eye on your camera (sitting unattended on a table on the other side of the glass). There have been a lot of robberies from here” (!!!)

I was not sorry to leave Chicago and America. I hoped that Amsterdam Schipol airport would be better. The flight was only 6 hours, and as the second day of travel slowly dawned, we landed in Europe.

This airport was fun! There was a McDonalds and a museum and stores conveniently labeled “Shoes” and “Electronics” and “Holland Gifts” and “Flowers” and “Cheese.” I strolled around the museum and had a breakfast happy meal (Mc Donald’s is cheap an familiar overseas, though I never eat it at home). I bought a little wooden tulip and some museum postcards, then had to go back to the flower shop – they had given me some Turkish currency as change – it looked a lot like a 2-Euro piece but it was not. There was luckily not a problem getting my 2 Euros. Soon however it was time to board the plane and I was on the way (10.5 HOURS!) to Africa.

My seat was on an aisle (sadly not a bulkhead, though I had certainly showed up early enough to request one) and the movies were decent. There was a fantastic view of the Sahara desert, and I took way too many (over 130!) pictures of the shifting desert.



I have been spending this morning as a woman of leisure. I was so busy back in Canada getting ready to sing and then to leave that I had not thought through what being thrust into a summer environment would entail. It is hot here. Everyone (the only girl I have seen yet is Wendy, but as she has historically been pretty fashion-savvy I am taking her as an example of the general population) is wearing tanktops and short skirts and flip-flops. Legs, toenails… I had to find the nail polish and the razor and summerize myself.

Wendy’s gardeners just left – the owner of the business and his two employees. He was originally from Manchester, came here for a visit 22 years ago and just never left. He is typically Manchester – broad accent, blue eyes and freckles, and a painful-looking sunburn (forgive my generalization, but even in late fall in Germany, the guys I had met from Manchester have been sunburnt. Does that city exist under a thick UV-blocking cloud??) He thought I was 21, so I liked him immediately.

Here is what I learned from the British gardener: The 2-inch long spikes on the pretty tree right outside the patio can pierce even sneakers in their quest for tender foot-flesh, and even when removed, the tip remains ensconsed in foot-flesh and has the tendency to go septic. I was barefoot at the time, but am NOT barefoot now.

I also learned how to get banned from golf courses in South Africa (overturning a golf cart while driving it drunk) and how to escape police custody in ___ (claim you need to return to your hotel to get your passport and then to simply flee the country).

I offered the hard-working gardeners water, and he answered for me, saying that no, no they were fine, but he would like some coffee please. I told him he was welcome to it if he would make it, as I have no idea how to make coffee (I really don’t, and, quite frankly, I have little desire to learn. It is like being a spoiled heiress who has never pumped gas. I feel that this ignorance makes me a classier and more intreaguing person. Right?) The Brit told me that this coffee was no good, and so we had tea instead. He lectured me thoroughly on how to brew a proper cup (“I bet in CANADA you add milk before you put the tea in the cup. No, no” – I did not have the heart to contradict him).

We sat on the patio and oversaw the labourers. In his opinion Wendy’s dog is a ‘pavement dog’ – her mother sat on the pavement and took love from whatever came along. Ouch! (The dog loves him though, and he didn’t even get mad when she smacked his abcessed tooth with her paw.) Also in his opinion (not MINE!), a white person is needed to make sure the work gets done. I could not believe he said that, and in front of the workers. How does a girl respond to that? I think this is going to be a really strange place…

The exhaustion started to kick in finally. I lay on the hammock but it was full of ants, so I moved to the couch and waited for Wendy to arrive home.


When she did come home we had to rush rush rush to get in her car. She wuld not say where we were going, and after driving only 3 minutes we turned off the road into the…
…LION PARK. Hurrah! We were going on a Lion Hunt! (sort of).

There was this great lionmobile with benches for everyone and with one seat right at the front. The FRONT, in front of the car… like one of those BMW hood ornaments, but it was me. Wendy told the lion man that it was my birthday and guess WHO got the great seat? (me me me!)

Actually, the seat was pretty scary. Had I tumbled off I would have been crushed by the lionmobile, and there was no seatbelt and no real handholds. Also being at the very front I could see all of the ruts ahead, and brace myself to bounce around.

The lions were adorable, with big cages. At one point the tour leader told a mother to put down her toddler and let him run to the tree across the way. She had not heard the explanation about how lions will not chase adults but WILL chase the injured or the elderly or children. The little boy started to run, and immediately the lionesses (who had been lounging idly in the sun) perked up their ears, and started to chase the little boy, much to the horror of his mother (and to our amusement).

Of course, Wendy and I, not to let someone else be the centre of attention, adopted obvious limps and started to run alongside the cages. The lionesses thought that this was great fun, and chased us as we limped.

We also saw cheetahs (who licked our hands with rough tongues), tigers, Wildabeasts and giraffes, impalas and gazelles.

Afterwards we had drinks on the lawn, and when the restaurant opened we had delicious beefy-beef. What a fun day!

My sister gave me some great presents: A bracelet of wooden beads, a cotton skirt, and best of all, a card with 5 rolled-up 20-rand (5$ Canadian) bills, with a message saying that they were for me to give away to poor people. What a sister I have!

Right now I am at the office. It has been the most boring morning ever, but any minute we are going for lunch. It is actually pretty interesting watching my sister work, but it is a beautiful day and every minute in an office is like an arrow to the heart! I want to see Africa! The airport didn’t count, and the mini-safari was fantastic. On the road today were trucks with 10 passengers stuffed in the back. There were English and Afrikanaas newspapers being sold (with headlines like: “Row over Breakfast Cereals”), and dozens of workers lined up outside of Wendy’s complex in the hopes of being offered casual employment. Inside the complex ladies were picking up their maids in golf carts, and other golf carts were filled with clubs and actual golfers, heading in the direction of the course.

That is all the Africa I have seen, but it has just been one day. Still, that is more Africa than ever I thought I would see. I didn’t do that badly packing for this trip, though I forgot my all-purpose black pants and a certain pair of sandals, and brought some office keys which needed to be left behind. I also forgot the piece of birthday cake I had been planning to eat on the airplane. Oops!

Time for lunch!